The Portrait
by LivingInThePages
Summary: Severus Snape never envisioned the afterlife to be forever sitting in a frame on display like a caged animal. Especially not in the room of a certain know-it-all student. Hermione/Severus Fanfiction.
1. Severus

**The Portrait**

 ** _Disclaimer:_** The Harry Potter world and all its characters belongs to the brilliant J.K. Rowling. This is for nonprofit entertainment purposes only.

 ** _Wonderful Beta:_ ** AlexisBlackSnape

 _ **Warnings:**_ Mild language and suggestive themes.

 **This is a fic that will be eventually completed but on the back board behind my other story, The Unexpected Journey.**

 **To those who anticipate a weekly/monthly update, I ask that you refrain from reading the following chapter and wait until it's finished in its entirety.**

 **To those who understand that an author doesn't live to write free fan fiction and has other obligations, you are the real MVPs and I adore you.**

 **So, enjoy now or enjoy in time. Thank you! xo**

* * *

 **Ch.1**

 **Severus**

Harry was the first to spot the lone portrait in the dark hall.

His desolate green eyes behind thin round glasses flicked to the frame for a brief moment, then back to the vacant corridor that led to the dungeons they were headed for. Ron had also become aware its presence and gone quiet, evading looking at it as well in fear of the man looking back. Hermione on the other hand, had her keen, curious brown eyes set directly toward it, without any fear of the guilt that formed between the three of them after that fatal night.

While Harry and Ron quickened their pace at the sight, Hermione hindered her step, unsure as to why this portrait was so intriguing, yet every bit set to understand why.

Ron quickly noticed her interest first when he felt the pull of their entwined hands. Turning to meet her gaze, he bequeathed a look that plainly showed his confusion and shaken nerves. Yet she decided to ignore his silent plea and let go of his fingers gingerly, replacing them with the inner lining of her knit coat pockets.

"You two go on, I'll meet up with you in a minute," she said softly.

Knowing Ron, he didn't want to stick around to argue when he was trying to avoid his old professor, which Hermione for once was appreciative of since she wanted to speak with him alone. Without needing a confirmation from the retreating pair, she turned away and took in a breath, ready to finally face the man in the matte black frame.

Former Professor Severus Snape was slumped forward in an emerald green chair; his dark locks covering pallid features. Slender fingers were entwined between his knees, hardly hanging together. His usual black robes fit tightly against his form, and the only spot of white in his attire peeked out from the edge of his sleeve near a lengthy row of buttons.

Altogether, he looked like a miserable heap of black inside one of the most exquisite paintings Hogwarts presently had on its walls. And while her awful past with him should have made her think otherwise, it was difficult to see the once tall and stout man looking so defeated.

Biting her lip hard, she felt her nerves beginning to spike, yet came to the conclusion that she was standing there far too long to simply walk away without saying something.

"Professor?" Her voice came out in a timid whisper as she twiddled her fingers behind her back and took in an uneven breath.

His posture remained slumped and still, as if she was either too quiet, or he just didn't care to pay her any recognition. It nearly appeared be an ordinary Muggle painting if it weren't for the faint flutter of his long, dark lashes.

"Professor Snape?" She tried again after a minute that felt like a decade of waiting, while her heart thumped in her chest like a drum. He had always intimidated her in one manner or another just by being in the same room. Even in her later years she couldn't shake the uneasy feeling she had around his menacing aura. No student could ever get away with even the slightest thing while he was in the same general area.

Of course, she had never fathomed his abilities to notice the small things were directly related to his ties with both the Order and the Dark Lord's bidding. Yet how awful it must have been for the brooding man to function with abundant classes while juggling risky tasks for both parties.

His silence made her heart hurt for him. After all the suffering he endeavored... without one person who truly cared for his well being... or whether or not he made it back to the school in one piece, not just for the sake of the information, but also for his health and security...

He needed someone to care, even if it was too late.

She built up as much courage as she possibly could before even considering her next choice word.

Clasping her hands so tightly that they ran white behind her back, she spoke before she could back out.

"Severus."

Never in her life had she seen anything so quick as when his eyes snapped up from under his cascading black hair to meet hers.

Her breathing stopped and her stomach plummeted as his dark eyes glared directly at her, as if seeing through her soul.

"S-sir," she stammered out when his eyes remained strong on hers.

"Miss Granger." His deep velvet voice replied through the painting, menacing yet smooth to the ear. "What could possibly bring you to these corridors? Surely you're not here to speak with the young Slytherins. Quickly say what you need to relieve your guilty conscious then kindly remove your person from my sight."

She found herself at a loss as he sneered with a hidden hatred, though she wasn't sure if it was completely directed at her.

"I didn't stop to apologize, sir. Although I can't say I don't have a guilty conscious since I didn't do all I could to save you..."

He rolled his eyes and muttered "bleeding Gryffindor heart" under his breath as she continued.

"I..." she started, unsure where she was even going with this. She had only come with the intention of understanding her own curiosity. "I... just wanted to see if you're even fond of this spot. I remembered seeing you in the clock tower courtyard on more than one occasion and I know of a hall that's just as quiet that has a window looking out to it..." Her voice trailed away.

His sneer fell for the very first time since she laid her eyes on him in potions on her first day, causing her breath to hitch.

The wheels in Severus' head begun spinning as to why she might want him in that location. Was she and the other golden twats wanting to conspire here in this hall? This was directly where one could wait for unsuspecting Slytherins to emerge from the dungeons. You'd think boy wonder would learn to live in a world with Slytherins if he really was in favor of non prejudice. Or was his views just as one sided like the Dark Lords had been?

He eyed her wearily.

Yet... she remembered the spot he went to when he needed air. The place that looked over the woods, the lake, and the calming sound of the antique clock, helping him forget his constant orders and dead end deeds. A place that reminded him he was worth something, though he never truly knew what.

And how did she know? Clearly no one watched him unless it was to run from punishment. Had someone put her up to this?

She chewed her delicate lip before opening her mouth.

"I don't want to bother you, sir, it's just since we're finishing remodeling, this spot isn't permanent. I was appointed to the third floor and can easily move you."

He continued mulling over her words. _Did they need me to watch over the courtyard? Did they go to Dumbledore's portrait to ask advice on the best ways to continue manipulating my efforts for him and his bloody castle? He probably knew of my admiration for the courtyard, and now the old bastard was trying to use someone like Hermione Granger, with her annoyingly soft eyes and innocent smile, to position me in the spot without questioning it._ His face turned back into a loathing sneer.

"Lucky for you, I'm no longer able to deduct House points since spying on me would've cost you 50." Blasted Minerva wouldn't even let me have that... "But you are correct Miss Granger, I'm quite fond of the courtyard. Even so, I'm still content in this space and do not desire to move from this spot," he finished regretfully. This would just continue to sit on his conscious as well as the other thousands of regrets that were clouding his mind each day with no escape from them. If only his ruddy portrait had contained a bottle of whiskey.

Hermione sighed, feeling defeated, but nodded anyway.

"Alright, sir. Just... let me know if you need anything."

Severus then watched her leave. Each step she took, the curls that cascaded down her back swayed. _Since when had her hair looked so put together_ , he suddenly wondered.

 _And... bloody hell what happened to that girl's boyish figure?_

Just as quickly, he thrust those thoughts away. _Bollocks, she's your student, you old prick_. Or at least she used to be. Now she's nothing but a view from the outside world while he suffers in a cramped picture frame.

Or was it that the real him peacefully resided inside a coffin, while this empty shell of his former self was on display like a caged animal for the rest of his miserable existance?

His only pleasure was thinking of meeting the artist who put this version of him into his own personal nightmare. His thin lips turned into a smirk as he envisioned intimidating the man before tossing him out the window by his ankles.

And why couldn't the slithering horse-shit of a "lord" have burned this hall down? The castle had been practically destroyed, but this exact spot remained intact and depressing as ever.

Severus slumped into his portrait, uncaring of what the Slytherin students thought of him since most would continue respecting him out of fear, even if he had showed up sporting a pink tutu and duck slippers.

Though pink was definitely not his color. And he did not care for ducks.

Suddenly his thoughts shifted at the sound of a clumsy, young third year running down the hall.

The first Hufflepuff before the new school year. Severus felt a new hope spreading through his black heart. After a malicious sneer, he timed it so the boy would be in the perfect position.

Just as the Hufflepuff was running full speed, Severus ducked as far down into the painting that would allow and put on his best ghostly impression of his former self.

"Mr. Welsh!" he called out, hoping the dim witted boy wouldn't see the portrait.

As hoped for, the boy stopped dead in his tracks, widened his eyes, and looked everywhere for any sign of his former professor.

He finally laid wide eyes on a drape by the window and shakily approached it with a hesitant, outstretched hand.

"T-Terry? If that's you it-t's not f-funny," the boy stuttered out.

Severus muffled a chuckle as Aaron Welsh slowly pulled back the curtain, only to find no one there.

His face paled perfectly.

Severus grinned.

"One hundred points from Hufflepuff for running in the halls. Let me catch you again and I'll be sure to haunt you for the rest of your miserable life. Is that clear Mr. Welsh?" he said with a grave tone.

Aaron gulped, still shifting his eyes about the room, unaware of the portrait only two feet away.

"Y-yes s-sir. I won't do it a-again."

"Then be off with you!" Severus's booming voice demanded.

Aaron didn't hesitate to walk out of the hall like a startled puppy as he almost tripped over his own feet with the speed he was attempting. He even nearly lost one of his books when he rounded a corridor.

Severus let out a hearty laugh, a very rare, genuine one. Perhaps he was finally going mad.

His last fleeing chuckle was on the thought of how his newfound madness came after death rather than when he was actually teaching. Hell, he even stayed sane while working for the Dark Lord- the most insane wizard of all.

After feeling the end of the exhilaration the laugh had given him, he went back to his slumps.

He could go back to his original frame in the Headmaster's office, but after the first few days he was hung there, Minerva had all but had her apprentice portrait coddle him.

Honestly, if he'd known the woman would have cared so much for his death, he would have never become friends with her. If that was what they were. Honestly he saw her more as a skilled rival since they both were, after all, Head of rival housing. Yet she was the only colleague he could ever stand to sit in the same room with. She had even gotten him a Christmas present every year. It was always something insulting such as shampoo or a beginner's book on potions, but he took pleasure in her humor and witty insults. It had reminded him that he wasn't the only one who didn't have the same sickening cheer that Albus had.

He and Albus once were on good terms, back when he could stand the twinkle in his eyes and his sugar coated smile. After Severus discovered the manipulative man behind the whimsical mask, he couldn't quite stomach him or his precious lemon drops. Which was a shame since it used to be one of the few treats his mother ever gave him as a child. Severus rubbed his face with one hand before letting it drop limply at his side.

Now wasn't the time to reminisce on his pathetic childhood. He'd done enough of that already.

Instead, he sat back into the intricate green and silver arm chair, one that could've been made for Salazar Slytherin when he was still alive, and let his mind go blank.

It was his favorite thing to do since he was placed in the hallway, which was coming up to be a full and agonizing year.

What a life... he thought miserably.

And yet he had never even lived.

* * *

 **Big thank you to** **Alexis who helped tremendously and to those who took the time to read The Portraits first chapter!**


	2. Scorched

**The Portrait**

 _ **Wonderful Beta:**_ AlexisBlackSnape

 ** _A/N:_ ** Thank you so much to all who reviewed and/or favorited thus far. Response to my work is appreciated and encouraged since otherwise I only write as fast as my muse allows.

Please enjoy!

* * *

 **Ch. 2**

 **Scorched**

Hermione placed her favorite quill atop the dark, wood desk in the newly constructed Alchemy class, awaiting Professor Holt-a former Hogwarts professor from the Netherlands- to begin the class.

The very tall, greying man sat in his desk chair, waiting for students to continue filling the empty rows of seats. Yet as the minutes ticked by, he frowned upon realizing there wasn't going to be any more students entering through the door because of the diminished student population, as well as the enthusiasm many students lacked to take the class. After all, it was a mixture of Potions and Transfigurations of the basic four elements. Most students tried their best to avoid taking Alchemy at all costs due to the oddly challenging combination.

Hermione, however, was first in line to sign up for the class with a new major on her mind that she was determined to do well in.

A career in Potions was certainly never her first choice, yet the sudden demand for Potioneers in hospitals was dire and her need to help those who suffered in the war, along with the newest attacks, caused a new passion to arise.

Her main objective this year was to complete Potions and Alchemy perfectly, as well as aid Madame Pomfrey. For the first time, the Matron would instruct a class to prepare sixth and seventh year students who wanted to become Mediwizards.

Tapping her quill, Hermione thought of the vast ways the three classes would help-

"Miss Granger!" A shill voice sounded in the hall, growing louder as footsteps bounded up to the door. "Mr. Weasley, you're absolutely sure she's in this one?" McGonagall asked, opening the door with one hand while holding her fir wood wand with the other.

Ron nodded in confirmation, pointing in Hermione's direction as she flew to her feet.

Sighing, McGonagall placed an open hand on her chest in relief before taking hold of Hermione's arm. "Professor Holt, I apologize but I'm in need of Miss Grangers assistance. I'll explain her absence when the situation isn't so dire."

After an awkward nod and twitch of the brow from Professor Holt, the newly appointed Headmistress McGonagall took Hermione into the hall and begun a light sprint that was slightly wobbly; an injury to her leg last week while helping repair the owlery being the cause. Though the wound itself was covered by her signature green robes, Hermione knew it she wasn't doing herself any favors attempting to run on it.

Noticing Hermione's troubled gaze, McGonagall shook her head for her to not mind it as the three ran around a corner. "I'm fine dear. There are more important things to attend to at the moment than my leg."

Ron huffed while running. "I'll take her, Minerva. We'll be quick to get to the dungeons."

Nodding her head, she slowed her step as Ron and Hermione took off, something they easily could do after their full year of running. Yet despite those dark times, the pair couldn't help but feel uplifted to be on their feet again, this time running toward something rather than away.

"Ron," Hermione panted, "what's in the dungeons?"

"A fire started in the second year class. The professor," he shook his head, "real piece of work, he is. We've got another Lockhart on our hands, but this time the fake is actually dangerous. Harry's been trying to put out the fire but nothing is working."

Rounding another corner, they took stairs two at a time in unison until reaching the dungeon, already smelling whiffs of smoke at the entrance.

"You two! No students allowed past-"

"Out of the way!" Hermione instructed, removing her wand from her robes as the older man sneered at her as a put-out child would.

Though rolling her eyes, she was glad he at least had the decency to take the class out of the dungeon halls. A few second years watched as the two passed by, widening their eyes with delight as the famous war heroes ignored their newest professors instruction.

"Harry!" Ron called out, narrowing his eyes through the smoke.

With a silent wave of the wand, Hermione dispelled the thick, grey air before it could burn their throat and eyes.

"Back here!" A fit of coughing cut off anything he might have added.

When the air completely cleared, the Potions classroom was in crystal view as they approached Harry who was attempting to douse the flames currently dancing brightly, letting out a scorching heat within the space.

"It's worse than Fiendfyre! Water barley controls it, but it won't clear anything!" Harry informed us, a stream of water continuously pouring from his wand.

Hermione narrowed her eyes, looking for the source of the problem while Ron jumped in to help Harry control it.

Once her eyes ran over the desk at the front, she realized why McGonagall chose her over others.

It was more than just a fire.

Cursing at the idiotic new professor under her breath, she took to finding the proper catalyst for the potion ingredient that caught fire. Rummaging through the neatly labeled bottles that Professor Snape had always stored neatly in his own rooms and not out in the open, Hermione found Bromine water. Thankfully the bottle was still full. Quickly throwing the glass phial into the middle of the fire after placing a small charm on it. Then she proceeded to help Harry and Ron control the edges until it begun to shrink.

From there all they needed to continue was directing the fire into the yellow liquid until the last lick of flame was extinguished.

Groaning, she stared at the mess it left behind. Everything was burnt black in one corner of the room. In the middle sat the active Bromine that easily would have saved so many desks if the professor had known in the first place. After all, they just finished tidying the castle.

Shaking her head, she moved toward the door as Harry and Ron begun flipping tables right-side up and kicking the ones that nearly fell to ash with a groan.

Passing the dungeon hall, she realized just how much Harry ended up controlling; burnt marks from individual flames had laced the hall.

"Miss! Yes, you." The older professor that attempted to stop her called out, his hands placed high on his hips. "What is your name? I'm reporting you to the headmaster immediat-"

"Her name's Hermione Granger." A new voice called out in the hall, causing the man to stop in his tracks and then smile maliciously.

His spirit lifted just a tad. "Headmistress McGonagall! I was just about to reprimand this-"

"How'd it go, dear? Is it cleared up?" she asked, ignoring his attempt to place blame elsewhere in order lift the level of misdeeds from himself.

Hermione nodded. "It was a simple task for any Potioneer."

The baffled professor scoffed. "Simple?! That was-"

"Ron and Harry are fine?"

"Yes, ma'am. The classroom, however, is going to need about five new desks and I'd recommend a storage space for the bottled potions. If that fire had gotten anywhere near them, we may have had a much larger situation."

McGonagall smiled in appreciation that showed less on her face and more in her words as usual. "Excellent as always, dear. I'll make sure to excuse you all from your next class if you need the time to relax, although I presume you'll want to get back immediately. Now, I have some paperwork to take care of, students to place, and a new position that just opened up to fill." Her accusatory eyes narrowed at the now _former_ professor. "Please excuse me."

The man paled.

"Thank you, Headmistress." Hermione replied formally in front of others before turning away. Over the course of the construction and repair of Hogwarts, the three students became allies with McGonagall more than any other professor they worked with. It went without saying though, that it was kept hidden from other staff and students for the sake of their Headmistress' position and respect. Calling her Minerva in front of this particular professor would be unwise.

Returning to Harry and Ron, she couldn't help but breathe out a tired sigh, filling them in on the now empty potions position.

"Blimey, that's some rotten luck. How is it that every year we wind up with at least one goof of a professor?" Ron complained with a frown.

"I think we're doomed," Harry added. "I mean, this happened on the first day of class! How long did you and Neville work down here again? Four months?"

Hermione nodded, gazing at the blacked wall she put together with such care. "Five, if you include clean up..." She sighed, "But it's an easy fix. It should take no longer than a week... or a couple days to fix if more people pitch in."

"I don't think we'll even have a professor within a couple days to use the room," Ron grumbled.

Defeated, the three sat in the opposite corner as a wave of stress rolled over them concerning the past work they've done and had to continually do while taking classes.

Hermione's heart went out to Neville, as he took such pride in the classroom he used to fear the most. While the labor, for the both of them, was primarily to help the school, it had eased their minds at the same time, distracting their thoughts away from the war. Yet for him especially, it was the perfect way to overcome his past fear of the dungeon.

Seeing their work burnt and misused might awaken them again.

"Harry, do me a favor and keep Neville away from here until it's rebuilt..? In fact, maybe we should keep quiet about the whole thing for now."

While Harry agreed, Ron snorted. "No keeping secrets around here when second years saw the whole thing."

Rising from the chair, Hermione let out a breath. "I'll keep Neville preoccupied then. He doesn't have class with any of the younger students, so at least that helps." Planting a small kiss on Ron's cheek and squeezing Harry's hand, she said her goodbyes and headed off back to class. The heavy weight of her legs could not distract the thoughts that attacked her mind until she found herself in front of the Alchemy door, ready to put on a facade and continue her day as if nothing happened. Altogether that was highly unlikely.

* * *

That night, Hermione tossed and turned in her curtain drawn bed, wishing for sleep just as she had every night that week. And the week before that... She couldn't quite recall when she received any sleep at all.

Perhaps it was the silence that bothered her the most.

Sitting up in the rather large bed, she drew back the unneeded curtains and peered through the dark Head Girl room. While in the past, Head Girls and Boys slept within their own house, McGonagall had reinstated the tradition of separate quarters. Supposedly it was for better usage of independent and interrupted time studying since most of the week would be carrying out tasks. Hermione didn't exactly feel as if she needed it, but was glad to have a space the size of a small apartment to herself. That and it eased her mind to know the girls in the Gryffindor tower could sleep without her ongoing verbal night terrors.

Most nights she took draughts that completely obliterated all thought or stayed up until she was too tired to dream. Tonight was more along the lines of the second remedy.

Hanging her feet off the side, she felt for her fuzzy slippers her mom had sent her two Christmases ago before standing in the open room. Absentmindedly she shoved chilled hands into her pajama bottom pockets.

While she wasn't entirely sure what drew her to the halls, she instantly felt at ease when she stepped out of the room. The moon's gleam lit the once dark path and guided her with no destination in mind.

Deciding she wanted air, Hermione opened the first set of doors she could lay her hands on and found herself in the middle of a cobble stoned, clock tower courtyard.

An antique fountain filled with clear, still water sat in the middle of the stones and reflected a dark night sky and full moon. Stepping across the uneven stone and around two statues of proud eagles, Hermione breathed in the scent of crisp juniper that lined the buildings surrounding the square, as well as a fragrant pear tree in the corner.

Taking a spot on the wide fountains edge, she spread out atop the cool surface like she would her bed. Silence grew as she became still, suddenly noticing a noise that matched her steady breath.

Tilting her head, Hermione watched as a single brass pendulum as large as a doorway swing hypnotically, ticking in a calming, repetitive manner. It adorned the tallest tower of the surrounding buildings, visible through an open decorative archway. The very immaculate clock that gave the court yard its name.

Suddenly there were no thoughts plaguing her mind as they had been doing for the past five months. A blissful numbness spread throughout her fingers and toes as her chest continued rising and falling to the deep sound.

Looking up to the stars, she could've sworn that was the most peaceful moment she had in years. Simply taking in the chill air and sweet rising morning smells...

And yet, everything came to an end eventually. An image of a scorched hallway appeared within the outskirts of her mind, causing her to gasp harshly at never thinking of it before. Sacrificing her moment of content, she ran in flopping slippers pattering acriss the stone ground, swinging back into the building and down the nearest fleet of stairs with determination.

Taking more leaps and bounds than she should have in the dark and unpredictable castle, she at last found the hall she was searching for, running her gaze along the wall in anticipation and sudden worry for what she might find.

After another minute passed with the sound of her strained breath and flop of her slippers, she finally found what she set out for.

No more than ten feet away hung the matte black frame that no one cared to move. She swallowed her guilt for not thinking of it before.

Only two more feet... and...

"What..." Her whispered voice trailed off as she gazed into the blank canvas that once held former Professor Severus Snape. Furrowing her brow, she searched every corner of the painting, finding nothing but the same magnificent green chair and brown wallpaper.

He was... gone?

Frowning, she touched the edges of the slightly burnt frame, revealing a bit of dark wood that peeled away when part of the paint was scorched too badly. It... it wasn't as if he could've died from the fire... She swallowed, wondering if portraits could actually pass on in some way.

Or... had he moved portraits? Surely that must be why he disappeared... perhaps he has a second somewhere within the castle.

Sighing, she realized she made a big fuss that sat on her mind for nothing. Absently running a hand through long, frizzy curls, she sat on the opposite wall and closed her eyes while wishing she could feel at ease again.

When the feeling never came back, and sleep was out of the question, she glanced up at the empty frame, gazing over the places that were burnt.

Guilt settled in once more, forcing her to pluck the full portrait from the wall hastily before disillusioning it as she began advancing through the halls once more, this time in search of her bedroom.

Making sure not to drop the painting, she walked at a fast pace rather than run, relieved that her position as Head Girl would keep her from trouble if anyone found her to be awake.

Finally arriving at the secret entrance to her room near the library, she climbed a small set of stairs that ended up behind one of the bookshelves she had yet to fill.

A small statue of a fairy that McGonagall gave her sat next to the bookcase, its arms in a lock formation until it sensed her coming, unlocking itself and letting her through with ease.

Breathing out a puff of air, she felt relieved to be back inside her room, unseen by any eyes. If anyone had caught her with a portrait, and not just any portrait, but a former Headmaster's, surely the punishment would be grave even in her position.

Shaking the thought from her head, she decided not to trouble her mind with "what-ifs."

Instead, she revealed the frame, placing it upright against the wall with care before setting out to find her books on Alchemy, Potions, Transfiguration, and finally- a dusty little book she swore to her parents she'd never have any use for; a hundred and one beginner crafts.


	3. Temporary

**The Portrait**

 ** _Disclaimer:_** The Harry Potter world and all its characters belongs to J.K. Rowling. This is for nonprofit entertainment purposes only.

 ** _Wonderful Beta:_ ** AlexisBlackSnape

* * *

 **Ch. 3**

 **Temporary**

Severus Snape stared off at the empty room before him Tuesday morning, feeling as if his eyelids couldn't narrow any further. Taking in a heavy breath, he tuned out the drowning nonsense below him, spouting from the mouth of Minerva's new portrait.

The constant noise never ceased, forever looping in question since her personality had not completely set because the real Minerva had just started conversing with the painting. He silently wondered if the portrait even knew that she was asking the same questions over and over again. If that were the case, did he do the same as well?

Thinking back as far as he could, he quickly came to the conclusion, that although it was possible, it was not plausible since he could well recall many silent days drifting. Each week. Different short, awkward conversations as the school was slowly rebuilt.

In fact, he even remembered his time as a professor. Was that possible for a portrait? Glancing down at his seated form, folded in clothes that never needing washing, he nodded gently as if answering his own question like a madman.

It had to be possible because he was a portrait. Everything he was doing now, feeling now, applied to the paintings. Yet he still felt as if the ancient oil replicas were all dunderheads for not getting enough time with their former beings. Not as well informed... Much like the confounded "Einstein" in green robes still blubbering below him.

Suddenly the door opened. His black eyes lit with interest as Headmistress Minerva McGonagall hastily made her way to the desk. She was muttering a list of profanities along with the surname "Mendel," the newest potions Professor.

Raising a thick, black brow, Severus inwardly smiled, feeling the desire to tease her about the foolish choice, one he thoroughly had disagreed with in the first place. "Did I not tell you that man would be trouble?" He drawled when she drew a breath to continue her unceasing rant.

She looked up at him, a ferocious fire not to be meddled with in her evergreen eyes. "He was highly recommended you damned bat," she steamed, obviously forgetting her own advice on how not to speak to portraits. He was a just memory after all. "I have far too much to do, including new interviews to set up and your old classroom to restore, again. Amongst all other catastrophes to fix that surround this school, so do not interfere."

Though her warning was to be taken seriously, Severus was far too bored and too much of an ill sport to miss a chance to ruffle his former coworkers feathers.

"If you had simply taken my advice from the start I don't believe you would be in such a situation. Though, I might have a list of names that could fill the position if you tell your awful gob down there to shut up. That or make her a larger priority so I may finally have some peace."

The disgruntled woman held a quill against parchment with a grip so tight that she nearly snapped it in half. "Severus Tobias Snape, I will tear you down if you don't give me the day to sort this out without your taunting. You want your peace? Remove yourself and return to your separate portrait."

The snide feeling dissapated as he remembered the past 24 hours and the fire approaching his only escape, his only piece of the castle he could sleep well in due to it mostly being near the quiet and respectful Slytherin territory. He wondered if anyone even thought to have saved it while running down the hall. It wasn't likely.

Yet he could still feel the odd link to the second frame, though the condition may not be as pristine and usable as before.

"All I'm asking, Minerva, since the second frame is-"

Minerva took in a calming breath. "Severus. Leave. Don't bother to come back until I've had this sorted out. We will discuss your complaints after I'm done with my current overwhelming duties," she interrupted with a raised voice, frantically scribbling on the forms in front of her.

If he hadn't known himself how difficult her position was at the moment from experience, he would've been cross with the declined suggestion of a simple relocation of his current portrait. Or rather her own.

Yet even though she had good reason to turn him away, the feeling of being below priority once more to another Headmaster made him stand from his chair anyway. "Good day, Minerva," he said stiffly, uncaring for her response while moving to the edge of the painting as if it were a door.

Quickly and very similar to Apparation, he stepped into the void of the walls. Like a rubber band, they shot him straight for the second portrait. This time feeling a bit odd as it wasn't as long of a trip.

Landing, he grumbled as his foot stepped on his own cloak while moving forward to his second chair. It was surprisingly as comfortable as it was elegant when compared to the one in Minerva's office that was a little more stiff.

His dark eyes begrudgingly lifted, expecting the same bleak wall to be in front of him. Yet he was throughly shocked to find not a wall, but an open bedroom. One that was red and gold... that had a fireplace and- Merlin's balls.

A girl with long brown curls, swaying as she opened a door, ready to leave with her Charms textbook in hand.

Shelf lined walls... a chair with Gryffindor head girl robes hanging on the back... a large orange cat, napping on the corner of the lone bed.

Fuck. Not just any room...

Her room.

Hermione Granger's room.

And that was the moment, as the bedroom door swung shut, that Severus realized portraits could panic.

* * *

Hermione felt impatient in her last class of the day as she waited for Professor Flitwick to arrive. Tapping her foot, she watched people walk up and down the rows of desks before the start of class. Her eyes narrowed whenever anyone dared get close to Neville, who was currently seated a single row away and one desk up. A great observation point incase she needed to divert his attention.

Currently, he was nervously holding hands with Luna who managed to get the seat in front of Hermione yesterday despite being late. She was a safe person to be near. Although Hermione had come to love Luna like she would a sister, her natural personality and charm were extremely bizarre, causing students to avoid getting into conversation with her, and making her the perfect shield for small talk.

Add in Hermiones quick wand arm and he was almost as safe as a Gringott's vault.

Yet as her eyes followed the footsteps of every student that walked up the rows beside him, she failed to see Luna slowly turn in her chair, watching something in the air that no one but her could see.

"You're attracting Wrackspurts you know," Luna said in a soft voice, tilting her colorful Spectrespecs higher on her nose. The glasses glimmered in the light as she followed whatever creature she believed she saw today. "Your aura is also sort of dim. What's wrong, Hermione?" She lifted the specs off her face to reveal child-like grey eyes.

Hermione reluctantly took her gaze off the next few students coming into the room, all wearing green, as she kept Neville in her peripheral vision. Sighing, she shook her head. "Nothing really, just a hard first week."

Suddenly Neville's ears twitched, turning as well in his seat since Flitwick _still_ wasn't here. "I heard about how Professor Mendel got sacked, Hermione. You're still perusing a Potions mastery right? Must be terrible not having a class for the first month."

Her stomach suddenly dropped. Had he heard of the classroom burning already? Was she just overthinking his reaction? "Um, yeah... it's not all that bad though. There's still Alchemy and-"

"Talking about your accident, are you Granger?" A snide voice suddenly asked from behind.

Hermione felt her nerves spike and an annoyance fill her spirit for the hundredth time this month.

"Get to your seat, Draco," she sneered, wishing for the day that McGonagall finally realized her mistake of choosing him of all people to represent the student body.

His eyes narrowed. "Not until I'm assured that your little incident doesn't interfere with my status as Head Boy. Just because you decided to torch the class, doesn't mean our ties as Head students-"

"Malfoy!" she growled, hoping to God that Neville didn't put all those pieces together. Standing from her seat, she noticed more than just Neville and Luna's wondering eyes taking in the commotion. Grabbing Malfoy's arm firmly, she yanked the infuriate boy across the room toward the back so no one would hear. "What on earth are you playing at? First of all, my actions aren't automatically tied into your punishments. You've created enough of those _yourself_. Second, it was the new professor that started the fire. I wasn't even near the dungeon until I was called to put the fire out. And third, shut your damn mouth! How many people in this class have helped build this school again? I don't want everyone knowing that the Potions room was nearly burnt down again. We've had enough of that this past year."

Although she realized Draco knew exactly what she was talking of, after rebuilding parts of the castle himself, he still rolled his eyes like he used to before the war had happened. Practically shunning his new colors out of habit. If it hadn't been for all his hard work and help this summer, even alongside muggle borns, she'd still believe his change of heart was some sort of ploy.

He opened his mouth, ready with a comeback, when suddenly his eyes followed hers toward the center of her attention this whole day.

"Ah. I see..." His sneer became wicked. "You didn't tell Longbottom yet."

His stance suddenly begun to relax, moving forward toward Neville with two steps before Hermione sent a non verbal zap to his back. "Don't you dare." Her words were laced with enough hostility to make anyone shiver.

Yet Malfoy pursued anyway, fully aware of how dangerous dealing with the female of the Golden Trio was.

Thankfully for him, Professor Flitwick arrived before she could hex the living hell out of him. Unlucky for her, he had sat right into her spot, smiling back as she reluctantly took his normal spot next to Theodore Nott and Blaise Zambini. Neither were stupid enough to say a word to her throughout the remainder of class, though Theodore would often grow wide eyed and red in the cheeks every time Hermione merely glanced his way. For his part, Blaise would throw a wadded up ball of torn paper at the back of Draco's head whenever professor Flitwick turned away.

On the fourth such attempt, it landed square on, ruffling his perfectly combed blonde hair, and causing a chuckle to escape her, even as much as she tried to hold back. Blaise raised a brow but said nothing of it as she'd eagerly wait for the next wad of paper. Although she was no longer chuckling, still Hermione gleefully watched as Draco grew more irritable more paper was thrown.

What was even better, was that it kept Draco from trying to get Neville's attention when every chance he got, he was interrupted by Blaise.

The rest of class should be a breeze.

When Flitwick announced the class was finished, Hermione bolted from her chair toward Neville and Luna, stepping in the way of Malfoy who currently was picking up his belongings.

"Hey, did you guys want to..."

Neville shot her an icy glance, cutting her words down to a drawled whisper that quickly ended.

"Sorry, Hermione, I'm not in the mood," he said, shoving the last book into his arm before stalking away with a worried Luna in tow. She looked back one with a sad smile for reassurance before picking up her pace to meet his step.

Slowly, Malfoy rose from his seat, a Cheshire smile lifting his boney cheeks.

That smile quickly wiped off his face within the matter of seconds.

* * *

Severus drummed his fingers against the arm rest of the velvet chair while his head rested against the palm of his opposite hand. The overwhelming feeling that he could win a game show titled "what's in the know-it-alls room?" rose again after the day he had.

His half opened black irises roamed lazily across titles, criticizing each as a way to pass the time.

Pride and Prejudice. Suitable Muggle literature I suppose... Severus thought, rolling his eyes before moving on to the next title. Wuthering Heights. He quietly grumbled, remembering vividly how much he despised the books contents. While he used to find it interesting as a boy, after certain... events... he found a new hatred for the love triangle. Catherine reminded him far too much of a certain girl in school. Her green eyes had passed down to her son.

Suddenly getting a flash of an image in his mind, he snarled before shaking the thought, moving his attention to the next spine quickly.

What on earth was 50 shades of Grey?

"Ugh!"

A slamming noise awakened Severus from his daze, having looked at the overturned box filled with books for about an hour.

He drew back in his chair like a startled animal, wondering what on earth he should do as Hermione Granger stomped into the room, kicking off her shoes and shouting profanities at the walls.

"Alwaaaays has to be Malfoy!" She flung her cloak off her shoulders and onto her bed, mumbling harshly about Draco's inability to be a proper toilet scrubber much less Head Boy.

Severus felt an unwanted chuckle rise through the pain he was just feeling, slightly amused at her mini tantrum as she struggled to yank off her stockings with unsuccessful tugs.

"Who the hell invented panty hose?" she complained, nearly ripping them before finally removing them with one final tug. Her attempt to throw them across the room resulted in the near weightless fabric grazing the wall before mockingly landing in a soft heap

Muttering profanities, she collapsed onto the bed with the soft rumple of quilts. Her upper was body now hidden away from him, leaving dangling bare legs hanging off the side in his immediate view.

He frowned as she continued to mumble and groan at the ceiling, finding it less amusing and more concerning and annoying as he unwillingly listened to her personal tantrum. If he didn't speak fairly soon, he might lose the courage to speak at all. Though he had to admit, it wasn't nearly as bad as listening to his old colleagues portrait. Yet it was still a nuisance.

As he opened his mouth to make his presence known and cease the infernal noise, something caught in his throat and the air was practically lifted from his lungs as suddenly a gust of wind and a light thump sounded just beside him.

Widening his eyes, he glanced up from the discarded, rumpled jumper to find his former student with her arms high in the air. Hermione was maneuvering her uniform shirt over her unruly curls and revealing a glimpse of a white lace bra, as well as a long shapely slope of pale olive-toned skin.

His mouth went dry and as much as he tried, he couldn't make a single sound or movement as she finally freed herself from the article, tossing it haphazardly across the room in a new direction just as she did with the jumper.

As her long fingers begun working at the three small buttons on the hem of her skirt, he forced himself to make any sort of noise at all. The idea of her discovering him in her room while she was in such a state of undress aroused intense feelings of discomfort. Even if it didn't mean anything, of course.

Only, what finally escaped his throat was a noise bordering a shout similar to that of a ghoul.

"What the?!" Hermione's wand flew into her hand and she quickly took on a defensive stance, yet failed when her foot caught one of the many overturned boxes in her room.

Quickly righting herself, she grabbed the cloak thrown across her bed and covered her upper body with it as well as she could while still holding the hilt of her wand.

"Who's there?" She asked, her frantic brown eyes darting around the room, particularly near the door which was on the opposite side of the room he was placed in.

Bloody hell, the top of her underwear was showing over her slanted skirt, hanging by the one final button that was threatening to slip. It was the matching white lace...

Taking in a breath, he shut his eyes tight before quickly attempting to cool himself down. He was not one to ever lose his demeanor and now, over a know-it-all girl, was certainly not the time to start.

Releasing a calming breath, he felt like his normal self again, ready to sneer and deny any sort of accusation she may have about him seeing her partly undressed. After all, he couldn't very well remove himself from the room, not without crushing his pride and returning to Minerva. It would be a cold day in hell before he would return to that, not when Minerva was high strung and unwilling to remove her doppelgänger from her office wall.

Putting on a stoic face while adverting his eyes, he dug his fingers into the seats armrest in anticipation. "Miss Granger, down here," he bit out.

A gasp sounded and he caught a glimpse of her putting her wand down from the corner of his eye.

"P-professor Snape. Oh Godric, I am so sorry about that."

His lips thinned. "Do not trouble yourself with apologizing, just make yourself decent."

Without question, she began picking up the articles of clothing, moving quickly to cover herself with the loose jumper next to him. Discarding the rest on her bed, she redid the two buttons on her hip before clearing her throat to signify that she was finished.

As he drew his eyes back with caution, he couldn't help but feel slightly relived that she chose the large frumpy jumper rather than her fitted shirt. Yet something was still strangely alarming as he took in her flushed cheeks, nearly as red as a newt.

She had also surprisingly sat herself on the ground before him at a level that made him feel more his own size. Whoever created his portrait did an excellent job at giving him a life sized appearance, yet when he was placed on the ground instead of the wall it defeated the effort.

"Care to explain why I'm in your room, Miss Granger?"

Her fingers twiddled with the bottom of her jumper nervously, wincing as she looked away. "I'm sure you're aware of the fire that started yesterday?" She asked, glancing back toward him. A grave look shadowed her face at his nod of confirmation. "It- your frame I mean- must have caught some of the flame. I brought your frame up to my room to fix the damage. Honestly I wasn't sure if it was still a proper vessel for you to utilize, which is why I'm surprised you're here." She sighed. "Obviously it's still functional, but as much as I've worked on it, I still haven't figured out how to mend the charred edge. A piece must still be in the hall, too."

Severus watched intently as she stared just past him in studious thought, engaged in silent assessment of the frame. Even though she wasn't looking directly at him, he felt slightly uncomfortable from the way she leaned forward, taking in every small detail of damage with steady brown eyes. No one ever willingly took such a close proximity to him without the look of revulsion or terror. Miss Granger looked... unbothered.

"I'll get the piece tonight while doing my rounds, if you don't mind waiting. The design needs repair too."

Suddenly she moved fully forward. Reaching out a thin arm covered in wool, her fingers that had just all but torn her uniform off, now gently approached the areas needing repair with a new concentration apparent in her face.

Severus had his back fully pressed up against his chair, feeling the need to control his own breathing as he waited for her to be finished. "While I may be easily manipulated now that I am limited to the boarders of my frame, I still expect boundaries to be upheld, Miss Granger," he muttered rather dryly.

"I apologize, sir." She suddenly realized her odd behavior and drew back, remembering that this captured likeness of her deceased professor was probably just as indifferent toward her. She had always strived to be an ally to all her professors, yet through the years she simply accepted that this particular professor would never become even slightly fond of her. Her decency toward him wouldn't falter if it meant she could repair his frame though. "I had better find you a temporary place in the room until I have the tools I need. And I'm sure you'd prefer to be off the floor..." Chestnut brown eyes scanned the walls for a temporary placement. Her hesitation was now pronounced as she looked to him for permission. "Do you mind?"

He nearly scowled at the idea of being manhandled yet felt his dignity could be sacrificed just this once if it meant getting off the floor. Shaking his head once, she lifted the frame off the ground, carrying him toward a small sitting room away from the bed, yet still in partial view. Suddenly he was lifted further, until a smooth, narrow surface sat below him.

Hermione took a step back from his temporary post, eyeballing the balance of the portrait on the mantle over her fireplace. It was startling how well it fit within the room. Even the green color within the painting did well enough with the surrounding grey stone and red Gryffindor accents along the rest of the mantel. She didn't dare voice her pleased opinions though.

"Right... I think that should do for now. You don't, um, need anything, right? I'm surprised by how little I know about portraits." She suddenly appeared slightly glum at the thought.

He, Merlin forbid, attempted to reassure the girl instead of taking the extremely rare chance to belittle her on a piece of information her insufferable brain hadn't yet swallowed whole. Although every fiber of his black heart desired to, it wasn't exactly intelligent to pick on the person who quite literally had him in her clutches. "I suppose that's... understandable. Most literate portraits 'sleep' in the presence of all but the current Headmaster normally, and refrain from conversation due to secrecy. I'm also quite content, Miss Granger. I don't need much besides a wall space now."

She nodded silently, twiddling blistered fingers. Where had she acquired those?

"I'll be back shortly then... If you need me, just alert my familiar. His name is Crookshanks."

Severus glanced down at the abnormally large orange cat spread across the smallest piece of furniture in the room, kicking his back feet in a sort of twitch as he slept.

This... abnormally large hairball was supposed to understand me?

He frowned at the cat before glancing back up. "How is-"

The door suddenly closed behind Hermione as she left, causing Severus to frown even further at his question never being completed or answered.

Letting out a long, unneeded breath, he slunk down into his chair, scanning the boring, unpacked room once again.


End file.
